


Darest Thou Not [for the beast is fierce when provoked]

by resonatingkitty



Series: A Lunatic Fringe and Suplex City [5]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M, Wybrose centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 05:40:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6316822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resonatingkitty/pseuds/resonatingkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When one dares to poke a monster, one must be ready to face the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darest Thou Not [for the beast is fierce when provoked]

**Author's Note:**

> This is soooo late and I apologize. I had a lot of trouble writing this because once again I wrote entirely too much at once then as I read back over it I started hating what I already had wrote. 
> 
> I think I was able to keep it sort of on track with the storyline. 
> 
> Apologies for anyone who's not really a Wybrose shipper because this update is kind of centered around Dean and Bray but fear not there will be more Brock/Dean in the future! :) 
> 
> Enjoy!

Raw - Nashville, TN

Creak. Creak. Creak. 

The rhythmic sound of the rocking chair filled the otherwise silent room as it was rocked back and forth. In the rocking chair sat Bray Wyatt. He was patiently awaiting the return of either one of his boys. He’s sent all three of them out earlier to keep an eye out for Dean Ambrose with strict instruction to report back to him as soon as the other man was spotted. 

The, what was thought at the time, unsolicited attack on Dean the previous Monday’s Raw had caused Bray to grow concerned. He’d heard the whispers. Dean had been viciously attacked by Brock Lesnar shortly after arriving at the arena and was being carried to the closest hospital nearby. Not knowing that it had been a staged attack - how could he have when the whispers he’d heard were from the crew members? Bray had went to the hospital that Dean had been taken to. His concern for Dean’s well being overrode everything in him for the time being. He’d hoped to learn something of Dean’s condition but the staff were tight lipped, refusing to share any information.

Frustrated, Bray could do nothing but return to the arena and wait in the hopes that he was correct in his assumptions that Dean would live up to his stubborn ways and come back for retribution against Brock. And return Dean did, just as Bray predicted. Bray’s intentions had been to get Dean alone after Raw but the plan failed. Dean had been carted back off to the hospital after being attacked again by Lesnar upon issuing his challenge for a street fight at Wrestlemania. Once again Bray had went to the hospital, only this time to find that Dean had since been discharged and had left. 

It wasn’t until the Smackdown taping the next day that Bray overheard the others talking about how the attack against Dean had been staged. He heard rumors that told of some sort of deal that had been made between Dean and Brock in regards to Wrestlemania. The full details of when and where this deal was made was not disclosed but Bray knew that it had to have happened sometime after Dean’s loss at Fastlane. The whole thing didn’t sit well with Bray. The thought of Dean being mixed up with the manipulative man that was Paul Heyman and the equally cut throat that Brock Lesnar ultimately was, wasn’t a thought that Bray wanted to entertain. He needed to see Dean. Needed to find out exactly what the dirty blond had gotten himself into. He decided that it was time for his and Dean’s ever fated-to-be-intertwined paths to cross again. He knew Dean wasn’t at Smackdown that week, having been given the day off to further fuel the illusion that Brock had hurt him, so he was forced to wait until they traveled to Tennessee for Raw and look for an opportunity to speak with his little lamb. 

Bray is brought from his thoughts when the door to the locker room opens and Luke walks in. His attention shifts to his second in command. 

“Ambrose is here.” Luke announces, “He has a segment first thing. I heard a crew member tell him to be ready in five.” 

“How did he seem?” Bray asks. 

“Agitated. Tired. He was limping slightly. Seemed a bit distracted by something else.” Luke explained with uninterest. 

“I see,” Bray mumbles before waving his hand in Luke’s direction, “Go fetch back Erick and Braun.” He leans back in the chair as Luke nods and leaves. He would wait until after Dean’s segment then follow him back to his locker room. Then they would talk. 

He could faintly hear the sound of Triple H’s music start playing and a smile appears on Bray’s face. 

Soon. 

Triple H is ranting and raving about authority and how important it was when Bray and his boys left their locker room and headed up to the front. They stationed themselves in the shadows not far from the curtain. In their position, they had a clear view of who was coming and going all while remaining oblivious to all who may pass. A perfect vantage point. 

They aren’t there long before Dean comes limping from one of the branching hallways heading toward the curtain. Just as Luke had reported, the man looked agitated as he went, his face occasionally grimacing in pain when he moved wrong and put too much weight on the side he was favoring. The sight made Bray grit his teeth as a fresh wave of frustration flooded him. It wasn’t just the fact that Dean was in pain that pissed Bray off, it was also the fact that someone other than Bray had made Dean that way. 

Bray watches Dean disappear through the curtain. The familiar music that was Dean’s theme starting to play. The roar of the crowd is nearly loud enough the drown it out. It take a little bit, a lot longer than normal, for Dean to make it to the ring. But when he does, his voices rings out sharply. The anger underlying his words brings a smile to Bray’s face. 

Movement out the corner of his eye catches his attention. Thinking that it was just someone walking past but still wanting to make sure that they wouldn’t be discovered, Bray spares and quick glance and freezes. Brock Lesnar was standing off to the side, not all that far off from where they were. Why was he here? Bray distinctly remembers hearing that he’d been given the night off by Vince in order for this whole mini feud between Dean and Triple H to keep the feud for the championship alive while the brute recovered to happen. The Beast had his eyes on the curtain. He was lingering, his lips twitching up into an almost smile as Dean’s words continue to flow from the speakers. It dons on Bray that Brock’s reaction was to Dean’s words. Angers starts to bubble in the pit of his stomach and a smirk replaces the smile. Bray half hoped that Brock was here to blindside Dean when he returned from ringside. Bray hoped that was the case because storyline or not, Bray had no intentions of allowing Brock to lay another hand on Dean. The Beast would be in for one nasty surprise if he were thinking about it. Bray flexed his fingers. Oh how he’d love to get his hands on Brock again. 

The cheers from the crowd brings Bray’s attention back to the curtain. Triple H had said something in response to Dean. Bray knew that the segment would be ending soon and gives a silent signal to his boys. He feels them tensing behind him, readying themselves. Moments tick by before Triple H finally erupts from the curtain, face red with rage as a result of Dean’s words and storms off toward his office. It’s a couple long minutes before Dean is following wuite. He’s limping heavier that he was before. His head is lowered, hiding his face from view but Bray doesn’t miss how Dean’s shoulders were slumped. Tired. Once again Luke had been right in his observations. Dean doesn’t look at anyone, just keeps his head down and heads toward the hallway that he’d come from before. 

Bray’s attention shifts to Brock, confused as to why the man hadn’t moved yet to attack. Brock was watching Dean, face carefully neutral. It was almost guarded. Bray’s eyes narrowed. If the Beast wasn’t here to attack Dean and if he wasn’t here to enjoy seeing his opponent in just a few weeks time hurting - it was obvious that he wasn’t appreciating that fact - then why was he here? 

Dean had disappeared from sight when Brock finally moved. He shook his head and huffed out before he moved to follow where Dean had went. It was when he moved that Bray caught sight of what was clutched in one of his hands. Ice packs. 

Growing suspicious, Bray allowed a few minutes to pass before he moved to follow. He knew with Dean’s mood how it was, the man would’ve sought the furthest locker room that he could find. He liked to be away from everyone when his mood was sour like it was. Bray ignored all the locker room they passed until he got to the very last one. As they approached it, the suspicious feeling that Bray had felt turned to rage when he heard the mixed voices of both Dean and Brock coming through the still open door of the room. 

“-grab a bottle of aspirin while you were there did you? Cause by the end of the night I’m gonna need them to.” Dean was saying. 

“No I didn’t. Think I got some at my hotel though.” Brock’s voice answered, “Can give them to you later.” There is a pause before Brock is speaking again. “Perhaps I should’ve grabbed bandages.” 

Bray’s at the door in an instant. The sight unfolding in front of him made his stomach twist violently. Dean was seated in the only chair in the room, shirtless and covered in bruises while Brock knelt in front of him, nearly in between his legs, with a hand running across Dean’s body. The moan that fell from Dean’s lips as Brock closed the short distance between them to kiss him had Bray snarling out and making himself known. 

\--

Dean swallows nervously. 

The tension that’s settled into the room is thick, choking. Brock and Bray were glaring at one another. Dean can’t see Brock’s face clearly enough from where he say but he could easily see Bray’s. Bray’s face was twisted with jealousy and rage. Those blue eyes were somehow blazing and yet cold at the same time. It made a shudder travel up Dean’s spine. He wanted to say something. Wanted to say that what Bray obviously saw wasn’t what he saw. He opened his mouth but all the words stuck in his throat. 

“What is this Wyatt?” Brock demands after a few moments when Dean doesn’t say anything about the intrusion. He chances a quick glance to the side where Dean was sitting. The usually snappy dirty blond was watching Bray, wide eyed. He had gone pale. Brock was momentarily confused at Dean’s reaction but he didn’t get a chance to dwell on it for long. He turns his attention back to Bray as the man starts to talk. 

“What is _this_ indeed.” Bray was smiling a sadistic little smile now. He gestures between Dean and Brock. “Now isn’t this just the sweetest little love affair?” Bray starts pacing back and forth, his eyes darting between Dean and Brock. His eyes eventually land on Dean, their gazes lock and Brock can hear the swift intake of Dean’s breath. He sees the dirty blond start to shake slightly. 

“Was this intended to be some sort of dirty little secret on your part darlin’? Did you think that no one would find out? Or were you even thinking at all when you started involving yourself with the likes of him.” Bray’s eyes shifted to Brock as he spoke, glaring right at the Beast. His words were for Dean though. 

“And as for you, _Brock_ ,” Bray spits the name like it was the most disgusting thing he could imagine, “I hope you’ve gotten whatever your fascination was with my little lamb well and truly satisfied.” Bray laughs as he notices how Brock tenses up at his words. The man doesn’t open his mouth to try and defend himself from the accusation though, which pleases Bray even more. “Because what this was. It’s done.” Bray frowns, serious. He steps to the side, motions for his boys to do the same, before pointing to the still opened door and ordering Brock, “Leave. Now.” 

Brock doesn’t move from his spot. His eyes narrow and his hands ball into fists. “What makes you think I’m going anywhere?” He asks, tone low, threatening. 

“You’re outnumbered.” Bray states, simply. Smiling when Brock looks at Dean as if the dirty blond was going to back him. It was comical in a way. Dean doesn’t move though. He stays in the chair, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him. “So whether you want to or not, you will leave. The choice of how you leave is yours to be made, whether it is by your own free will or not.” Braun, Erick, and Luke all spread out, taking up threatening stances, waiting to see if Brock would continue to stand his ground. 

Brock grits his teeth, eyes flicking between the men standing before him weighing his options. He could possibly fight them, would probably be able to take at least a few of them down. If he could get Braun down first then the others would be easy. He was thinking about making his move when Dean spoke. 

“Brock,” The dirty blond still wasn’t looking up but he at least had seemed to find his voice. It was raspy though, quieter than normal, “Just go.”

Brock hesitates for a split second but eventually starts for the door. He gets to Bray and stops, holding the patriarch’s gaze and saying, low enough that they were the only two to hear, “You’ll regret this, Wyatt.” 

Bray smiles, watches as Brock shoulders past him and disappears out the door. He turns his attention back to Dean. “Leave us,” He orders, pointing to the door. His boys obey immediately, Luke closing the door behind him. Leaving Dean and Bray alone. 

Dean huffs out a sigh, finally moves from the chair. He stands slowly to face Bray. “You’re a fucking bastard,” he mumbles as soon as Bray is close enough. He looks up and Bray realizes that the look he’s giving is meant to be a glare but it held no heat whatsoever. His voice is still quiet, trying and failing to sound angry. He’s more embarrassed at being caught than actually angry. 

“Am I now darlin?” Bray asks with a smile. He reaches up to run his hand along Dean’s cheek only to have it slapped away. 

“Yes.” Dean’s fights his own smile that threatening the corners of his lips, trying to keep up the false facade of being angry. “You are. The fuck was that shit?” 

“I should be asking you that darlin’” Bray arches a brow. He crosses his arms over his chest, regarding Dean, “So what was it?” The residual anger than had died down to embers, flamed back up. He reaches down, runs a hand down Dean’s body in the same manner that Brock had done, watching as Dean shivered and closed his eyes. Little tingles of electricity traveled up Bray’s arm as he made contact with Dean’s skin and he knew that Dean felt it as well. 

That’s how it was between the two of them. An ever ongoing relationship. Their paths in life were forever destined to intertwine with one another. Sometimes they parted ways, with Bray going off to fight his wars and Dean chasing the gold that seemed to always be just out of his grasp, but they always came back together. Their paths always crossed each other again. 

And Bray knew that Dean knew that, has said time and time again, the only person Bray would be willing, albeit reluctantly, to share Dean’s time with was the brute Roman Reigns. Anyone else, and Bray had meant anyone, would not be tolerated. And yet here Dean was, messing around in dangerous waters. Waters that, if he were not careful, would pull him down and drown him. 

Dean’s mouth opens and closes as he tried to think of something to tell Bray. “I-” he manages to get out before Bray is interrupting. 

“I’ve told you time and time again that I will share you with no one besides the brute,” Bray pushes Dean back down in the chair before grabbing the dirty blond’s chin and forcing his head up. Bray leans down, their faces mere inches apart, “I bet the brute doesn’t even know of what’s been going on does he?” 

Panic flashes in Dean’s eyes. Bray sees it and instantly knows he is right in his assumption that this was in fact a dirty little secret. This angers Bray even more. 

“How long?” Bray asks. 

“Not long,” 

“ _How_ long?” 

Dean winces at the demanding angry tone but mutters out, “About two weeks before Fastlane.” 

Bray growls, pulling away. He ignores the fearful look in Dean’s eyes as he does so. His little lamb still fears that he will one day leave him as everyone else had done. He doesn’t leave though. He starts to pace again, back and forth. 

“I want to know the details of it. All of them.”

And Dean tells Bray everything. From the first time Brock had pushed into his and Roman’s locker room, the night at his hotel when he’d low blowed Brock, then after Fastlane, Brock stumbling across him in the bar after he’d left the arena. He told Bray of the deal and it’s arrangement. He took it upon himself to leave out the part where he’d sought out Brock after their match had been made at Wrestlemania and spent the night with him. Bray was already pissed enough. He didn’t need to add to that fire. He could tell that as he talked, Bray was getting angrier. He was jealous. 

That was the thing though wasn’t it? Dean never anticipated that Bray would materialize out of nowhere this soon. He’d been keeping up with the Wyatts, trying to anticipate when they’d meet back up but Bray had been dead set on his apocalyptic war or whatever it was that he was raging. It was bad enough that he was keeping it from Roman and it would’ve been bad enough if it had been Roman to have found out. Roman probably would’ve reacted similar to Bray, in telling Brock to get the fuck out of the room. But Roman would have at least been predictable after that, lecturing and ranting and raving at Dean and asking him what the hell he’d been thinking. With Bray though. Dean had no idea what to expect. 

Dean finishes telling Bray everything but Bray says nothing. He’s not even looking at Dean anymore, just sort of glaring at the opposite wall. 

A tense silence falls between them. 

Dean shifts nervously in the chair. Bray this quiet, not reacting to anything wasn’t good. It meant that he was planning something and it was guaranteed to be something that wasn’t going to be good for Brock. 

“Bray-” Dean starts again but is interrupted by a loud banging on the door. 

“Ambrose your match is up in thirty. Hurry up and get ready” comes the voice of one of the crew members. Shit his match against Del Rio. He’d forgotten about it in lieu of everything else. 

“Shit,” he curses under his breath and moves to reach for the tape that he’d placed on the floor in order to get up. 

Bray gets his hands on the tape first though and kneels in between Dean’s legs. Without a word he takes each of Dean’s hands, one at a time, and plants a soft kiss to the knuckles before he proceeds to wrap them himself. 

“After your match,” Bray says as he works, “one of my boys will be waiting for you back here. You’ll be staying with us.” The tone Bray uses has a finality to it, as if he wouldn’t accept any protest to what he’d just said. 

“And if I don’t want to stay with you?” Dean dares, holding Bray’s intense gaze when the man looks up at him. 

Bray’s lips lift into a small smile as he finishes wrapping Dean’s hand and tears the tape off. “Don’t be difficult little lamb,” he says, reaching up to grab the back of Dean’s neck to haul him down for a kiss. 

Dean instantly melts against him. It’s an effect that only Bray has - to reduce him to nothing with just a kiss. 

The kiss is demanding, relentless. It drives all the air from Dean’s lungs and leaves him gasping for his breath when Bray pulls away and stands. 

“I will meet you at the hotel after Raw. Don’t give my boys trouble. I’ll tell them not to hesitate to throw you over their shoulder if they have too,” Bray starts walking to the door to leave. 

“What are you going to be doing?” Dean calls after him. 

“Got some business to attend to darlin’” Is the answer he gets before Bray is gone, clicking the door closed behind himself. 

The match goes about as well as Dean had expected. He ends up getting beat down by the League of Nations and Triple H, aggravating his already sore and bruised body. He has to have help getting backstage and once there it was a struggle to make it back to his locker room. He nearly collapses, the leg he’d been favoring giving out on him, and he would’ve fell face first had it not been for Erick coming out of nowhere and grabbing him. He allows - he tells himself it’s because he’s exhausted and hurting not that he actually needs the help - Erick to help him get back to the locker room. He sits in the chair, intention being to catch his breath before he started gathering up his things. Erick, once he’s seated, wordlessly starts to gather up everything and drop it in his bag, ignoring any protest that fell from Dean’s lips. 

In a way Dean is glad that Bray had sent Erick to be the one to get him. Out of all of them, Erick was the one that didn’t completely hate his guts. Luke and Braun didn’t like him, he knew that much and even though they wouldn’t outright hurt him, Dean hadn’t wanted to deal with them.

Erick’s got his stuff gathered in a matter of minutes and they’re on their way out, Dean insisting that he can walk fine on his own even though Erick offers to help. 

It’s just them in the truck as they head back to whatever hotel Bray had chosen for them to stay at. Dean sat in the passenger seat, wondering where Luke and Braun were while Erick drove. The station was playing some country that Bray liked. It’s quiet. Dean doesn’t try to engage in conversation and Erick doesn’t say anything. 

About thirty or so minutes later, Erick was pulling them into some motel on the outskirts of the city. Bray, Luke, and Braun are waiting in the parking lot. Erick switches off the truck and him and Dean climb out.

Dean goes over to stand by Bray, already knowing who he would be rooming with.

“Get some rest boys.” Bray says once they’re all gathered around him. “We’ll leave for Atlanta around eleven in the morning.” Erick, Luke, and Braun are all nodding and when Bray dismisses them, they head to their rooms. Luke enters one by himself while Erick and Braun seemed to be sharing one. Dean has the suspicious that Bray had been rooming with Luke prior to tonight but he doesn’t voice it. Instead he lets Bray lead him to a room a couple doors down. 

Once inside Dean’s not at all surprised when Bray pushes him up against the wall, sealing his lips with a searing kiss as hands made quick work of his clothes. 

“Mine.” 

\--

Brock is steaming by the time he gets back to his hotel. He’s so mad that when he goes to sit on the couch he lashes out, sending the stack of magazines that were stacked on the coffee table off and across the floor. He takes several deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. 

The nerve of Wyatt, for ordering him the way he had. He talked pretty big when he had those boys around to back him up. Wouldn’t be talking so big if they weren’t. Brock’s lips curl into a snarl of his own at the thought of being able to get his hands on the Wyatt leader and beat the ever loving shit out of him. He’d only need five minutes. 

His thoughts of suplexing Bray Wyatt were interrupted when his phone started buzzing violently from where he’d dropped it on the couch when he sat down. Brock glanced at the screen. 

Paul Heyman. 

Great. That’s the last thing he needed right now was Paul yelling in his ear. He debated not answering for a few seconds but eventually reached for the device, answering on the sixth ring. 

“Yeah.” 

“Where are you? I’m at your townhouse.” Paul’s voice came through the speaker. 

“Not there. I’m in Nashville.” Brock sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

“Tennessee.” It wasn’t a question and Brock could tell that Paul wasn’t happy to hear it either. He didn’t care. “I see.” Paul paused for a few moments before daring, “Is Mr. Ambrose with you?” 

If Brock had had his way then he would be. If Brock had his way then he’d be buried deep in the others tight heat right now and wouldn’t be sitting here alone in his hotel and he certainly wouldn’t be on the phone with Paul. 

“No.” It’s a sharp, anger filled answer. 

“I see.” There is no surprise in Paul’s voice. Brock gets the impression that Paul may already know more than he’s telling. 

“Cut the shit Heyman,” Brock growls into the line, makes sure to pour all the anger he’s feeling into it to let Paul know he’s not up for this tonight. “Why did you call?”

There’s a pause on the line, just long enough that Brock imagines Paul swallowing nervously, before his advocate is talking, his voice quiet and business like, “Bray Wyatt requested and was granted a match with you at Roadblock. I was just informed.” 

It’s as if the air is suddenly clear. Brock smiles, tight lipped. So Wyatt wasn’t all just talk? He wanted a fight? 

“Excellent.” It was Brock says into the speaker, suddenly not at all bothered about what took place not never an hour before. 

He figured he’d be up for a fight anyway, considering how he figured that Wyatt would be keeping a close eye on Dean. He had no intentions of fully stopping what he’d been doing. 

Dean Ambrose was in his system now. 

Addicting. 

He’ll hold off until after Roadblock. Then, after he crushed Bray and sent the whole Wyatt family back to the swamps where they belonged, he’d claim his prize in Dean. It was perfect. 

Paul was saying something else, about how the match would be announced on Smackdown and then about his match at Wrestlemania and how he shouldn’t lose sight of it but Brock had stopped listening. 

He was too busy focusing on all the things he was going to do to Wyatt once he got his hands on him. 

\--

Smackdown. Atlanta, Georgia. 

Dean follows Bray through the halls, adjusting his duffel on his shoulder. The other three are trailing behind him, following as Bray searches for them a locker room for the night. They find one eventually, quite a good one too. It’s got its own tv screen as well as a shower. Pretty high end from what Bray usually gets. It’s also a lot closer to everyone, closer than Bray liked normally. Dean doesn’t complain though. He honestly doesn’t have it in him. He’s sore, the after effects of Brock the previous week, Triple H and the League of Nations on Raw last night and then the rough sex that was initiated by Bray after they’d gotten to their hotel had him completely drained. And he still had a segment tonight and it was just his luck that it happened to be the opening segment. 

Once they get into the room, Dean throws his duffel down and sits up against the wall, stretching himself out. He had a few minutes to rest before he had to go out there. 

“Going to make it darlin?” Bray’s squats down beside him, reaches out push his bangs from his forehead. 

“Will be fine.” He mumbles, flicking the bangs back down once Bray retracts his hand, making the previous action effectively useless. 

A knock sounds on the door. Braun answers it, pulling the door open and glaring down at the poor crew member who stood on the other side. 

“Dean….. Uh…. needs to be ready in...f-five.” 

Dean’s hears the shaky voice and lets out a sigh before calls out so they know he’s heard, since Braun wasn’t moving to let them in. “Gotcha!” 

The door is then promptly shut in the crew member’s face. 

Bray stands, holding a hand out when Dean moves to stand. Dean shoots him a glare, mostly for show, before reaching up to grab it. 

The segment goes smoothly. The words he spoke to Triple H, the noise he was able to make, it made him feel good, great even. The added bonus of being able to crack Kevin Owens over the back with a chair was even sweeter. Lightened his mood right up. So much so that it put him in a mood to fight and Owens was in his sights. He’d issued the challenge in the ring but Kevin had walked away. 

It wasn’t until he got backstage that he was told that the match had been made for later that night. He couldn’t help the pep in his step or the smile on his face as he headed back to the locker room to get ready. 

Dean’s just finished wrapping the medical tape around his hands, quietly humming to himself as he did so when Bray and the boys get ready to leave. Dean quirks a brow at them. He didn’t know that Bray had a segment scheduled for tonight. 

“Going somewhere?” He asks Bray as Erick, Luke, and Braun started filing out the room. 

“Got a segment darlin’” Bray grins, jerking his head up toward the tv in the room that’s showing the show live, “might want to pay attention to it. It’s going to be real important.” 

And it was. Very important. Dean’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head when the announcement came that Bray Wyatt would be fighting Brock Lesnar at Roadblock. 

Dean was still in shock when the familiar Wyatt video package that proceeded before they appeared flashed across the screen and Bray appears on the screen, family standing in the background. His voice starts to flow from the speakers.

_I stood upon the sand and saw a beast rise from the sea_

“Oh fuck,” Dean mumbles to himself, already knowing who Bray was referring to. 

_Having seven heads, and ten horns. And upon those horns were ten crowns, and upon the heads, the name of ‘Blasphemy.’_

Dean scrubs a hand over his face. “Jesus fuck Bray.” 

_And you, you’ve done some damage around here. **Brock.**_

Bray was poking the fucking bear in every sense of the term. He really was. But Dean really didn’t find himself all that surprised. He knew that in some way, shape, or form Bray would have been seeking a way to exact revenge on Brock. It was what Bray did. On the screen, Bray continues on. 

_I mean, you’ve conquered them all, you strike fear into the heart of every man that comes across your path. But I, I wanted to share a little secret with you. I am more than just a man. I am the nagging conscience of a world that had thrown itself away to mortal monsters._

_And where I come from, beasts bow to me._

_And soon, so will you._

“Fuck,” Dean groans when the screen cuts to commercial, “What the actual fuck?” 

He didn’t have much time to ponder about what he’d just heard. Didn’t have time to really react to it or go to find Bray and asking him what the fuck he was thinking. His match was next. 

After the match though, a victorious win under his belt, Dean goes back to the locker room where he’d greeted by a smug looking Bray. 

“Well darlin’, what did you think of the announcement?” He asks, as if the thought that Dean didn’t actually watch it never crossed his mind. 

“I think you’re pretty fucking insane is what I think.” Dean grumbles, starting to unravel the tape from his hands. 

“That’s rich coming from the man dubbed as the Lunatic,” Bray shoots back with a playful grin and Dean just snorts in response. 

They’re silent for a moment, as Dean continues to work the tape off his hands and Bray watches him. 

“Perhaps,” he starts again, drawing Dean’s attention. He has a thoughtful look on his face, “perhaps I am insane.” He points at finger at Dean, “insane over you. Willing to face anything and anyone for you.” 

Dean chokes on his breath, looking down. He feels his cheeks heating up. Unfortunately Bray notices before he can hide it and chuckles, leaning in to plant a kiss to the side of Dean’s head. 

“Come on darlin’ let’s go home.” 

\-- 

 

Bray and Braun leave Saturday, heading for a house show, and this left Dean with Luke and Erick. Dean didn’t mind Erick, dude hardly ever said a word unless spoke to and he couldn’t care one way or the other when it came to Dean. Luke was another story entirely. It was no secret that he didn’t like Dean. Dean couldn’t say he was all that crazy over Luke either so there was no love loss. 

Dean knew he should just stay away from Luke, spend the time that Bray was away with Erick. It would’ve been great if he actually had done that but he didn’t and this was where he was now. Him and Luke, staring each other down on the porch of the cabin. 

Something had been said on Dean’s part, a gab at Luke. Some smart ass comment that Dean just couldn’t stop from tumbling from his mouth. And without Bray present, Luke hadn’t restrained from firing back. 

“One day Ambrose,” He’s said, allowing a tight lipped smile, “and I do hope that it’s one day soon, Bray is going to tire of you. Bray is going to get tired of finding out of someone else you’ve bedded up with and he’s going to walk away from you, wash his hands of you, as he should’ve done ages ago. You’re nothing but a little slut just like that mother of yours.” 

Dean had bared his teeth at that remark and Luke’s smile had only grown bigger at seeing that he’d gotten to the blond. 

“No good gutter rat is all you are. I don’t honestly know what Bray sees in you.” Those ever observant eyes had given Dean a once over before a sneer appeared on Luke’s face, “You don’t look like you have much to offer to him. Even your ass is probably stale with as much as you’ve been whoring yourself out to others.” 

Dean was fuming. Absofuckinglutely fuming. But before he could even react and hit the smug looking bastard in from of him, Erick was there, in between them. He gives Luke a warning look before he’s gently, but firmly guiding Dean away before things could get any farther out of hand. 

Dean doesn’t say anything for the rest of the day and he’s still silent, save for gruff responses, when Bray comes back on Sunday. He’s holed himself up in Bray’s room, just seated up against the wall, glaring at the floor. That’s where Bray finds him. 

Bray knows all about the encounter, Erick told him when he got back. He wasn’t really surprised. He knew of Luke’s dislike of Dean and he knew Dean liked to antagonize Luke. Still, it was an unnecessary problem to have. He’d have a word with Luke later, after he’s dealt with Dean. 

The blond looks up momentarily when Bray pushes into the room before returning his gaze to the wooden floor. Bray lets out a breath, walking over to join him on the floor. He doesn’t say anything, just leans up against the wall beside Dean. He rests the back of his head against the wall and waits. 

Eventually. 

“He’s a fucker.” Dean mumbles without looking, “Harper.” 

“Well if you’d stop antagonizing him darlin then he’d leave you alone. And don’t even try it,” Bray says, giving Dean a hard stare when the blond opened his mouth to, no doubt, try to protest the accusation. 

“Knew you’d take his fucking side,” Dean grumbles instead. 

“I’m not taking sides darlin’. I’ll have a talk with him later,” two fingers found their way under Dean’s chin to lift his head up so he would meet Bray’s eyes. Bray leans in slowly, whispering against the blond’s lips, “Right now I got more important things to do.” A kiss follows as Dean is pulled to straddle Bray’s lap. 

They’re lying there afterwards, still on the floor, panting and coming down from their orgasms. Dean’s on his back, staring up at the darkening ceiling. Bray’s stretched out beside him, propped up on his elbow, watching Dean as his hand draws small circles on the blond’s chest. 

“I got something special planned for Monday.” 

Dean turns his head, blinking sleepily at Bray. “Oh?” He rolls over on his side, facing the brunet. He let’s out a sigh. “What is it?” 

“You’ll have to wait a see.” 

“Bastard.” 

Bray chuckles, reaching out to wrap his arms around Dean and pull him closer. Dean’s head rests against Bray’s chest and despite himself, Dean places a kiss against the skin. 

“You’ll like it, I promise,” is breathed against the top of his head and he gives out a hum.

Eventually they get up. Dean goes to shower while Bray goes to have his talk with Luke. 

\-- 

Raw - Chicago, Illinois 

True to Bray’s promise, Dean finds himself liking the ‘surprise’. The match was announced in his segment with Triple H. He’d be fighting Bray. One on one. He kept his cool while he was out in the ring but once he got backstage, a large grin appeared on his face and he wore it all the way back to the locker room where Bray was waiting. 

“So your surprise is letting me beat your face in? Oh how sweet!” Dean says immediately. 

Bray snorts but says with a smile, “Told you, you’d like it and since when have you ever beaten my face in darlin’? Aren’t I usually the victor in our little spats?” 

“Not tonight motherfucker! Not tonight!” 

“We’ll see.” It’s followed by a chuckle. 

The match was a work of art, as all their encounter before. They’d beaten each other, not holding anything back.

It didn’t take Dean long to realize why Bray got this match made. “Are you ashamed of yourself?” The moment those words were yelled at him as he lay writhing on the mat, he knew that this was Bray’s version of a punishment. 

That realization made him fight back harder. It made him determined not to let Bray win this one. And he eventually managed to get the upper hand with an elbow from the top rope. The momentum wouldn’t be his for long though, before he could even move to capitalize on the opportunity he had it was gone. He should’ve expected something like this to happen - it was Bray he was dealing with and he knew Bray didn’t play fair. Yet, he still managed to feel surprised when Luke, Erick, and Braun appeared on the apron. 

He tried to fight back, a vain attempt that got him nothing but beaten down and Sister Abigail’d. As he laid there, the boys doing just enough to knock the breath out of him, he listened to Bray celebrate. Then suddenly Triple H’s theme was sounding throughout the arena. Brief panic-turned-anger surged through him. Fucking Triple H would come down now, when he was down. Fucker didn’t play fair either. 

Dean silently urged himself to shake off the Sister Abigail. Urged his limbs to start functioning again so he could move, could try to get to his feet to fight. Getting beaten down again wasn’t something he wanted. He knew how long it would take to get down the ramp and to the ring. Knew he didn’t have much time to recover. Minutes passed, the theme stopped playing, and yet nothing happened to him. The beat down that he was expecting never came. Curious he cracked open and eye and was shocked. Bray and the boys were still in the ring but that’s not what shocked him, no. What shocked him was the sight of Bray standing, staring face to face with Triple H. Was….. was Bray buying him some time to recover? 

Bray was content to just leave Dean in the ring, go back to the locker room and wait for him to recover enough to rejoin them. That was the plan but then Triple H’s theme had started playing right after he’d Sister Abigail’d Dean. He watched as the Champ himself appeared at the top of the ramp and started making his way down to the ring with purpose. Bray quickly changed his mind about leaving. Twice had his little lamb been beaten down by this man. It was not about to happen a third. Not while he had a say anyway. He waited. 

Triple H climbed in the ring and Bray turned to face him. At first the Game didn’t notice that they’d not left yet. The man was too busy stalking his downed little lamb. Bray just couldn’t have that and so he stepped forward, right in the man’s path, forcing him to acknowledge that Bray was still here. 

The staredown was intense. Bray didn’t miss the brief flash of fear that sparked in Triple H’s eyes and it made him smile briefly. His eyes slid to the championship perched on that business suit clad shoulder. The gold that Dean had been chasing, thirsting to get his fingers on, was right there within hands reach and Bray didn’t hesitation. He reached up, running a finger over the gold and diamond encrusted WWE symbol. And then he spoke, lowly so only Triple H would be able to hear him, “This would look so much better on another’s shoulder. We’ll see what this Sunday holds.” He loved the way Triple H’s eyes narrow in on him as he said that. He backs away then. Dean had had enough time to recover, it was time to leave. He gives the signal for his boys to go and they leave. Bray doesn’t even look back as he heads up the ramp. 

Later, when Dean comes back grinning from ear to ear because he finally got that fucker back for those other two times, Bray leaned back in his rocking chair and laughed. 

\-- 

Smackdown is the same song and dance as Raw - this time with an eight man tag team twist. They were told when they arrived to the arena. Dean would be teaming with the Usos and Ziggler to take on the Wyatts. 

“This another one of your surprises?” Dean asks as he follows Bray to a locker room. 

“Naw darlin’ I didn’t have anything to do with this one,” Bray answers, looking over his shoulder to give Dean a smile, “Good thing it was made though,” his eyes slide to Luke, Erick, and Braun behind Dean, “my boys have been itching for a fight.” 

“Pfft,” Dean turns around to face the three men, still walking backwards, as he states, “Hope they’re ready to get their asses kicked then.” The challenge was clear as day in Dean’s voice and it didn’t fail to draw a reaction from all three men.

Braun grinned, clearly finding the statement amusing. Luke snorted out a huff of what sounded like laughter, looked at Dean like that was the most ridiculous thing he’d head. Erick merely tilted his head to the side, face remaining neutral. 

Bray chuckled, pushing open the door to an empty room. He hooks an arm around Dean’s waist and pulls the blond to him, h-is back pressing against Bray’s front as he was still walking backwards. A kiss is planted to the side of Dean’s head followed by an affectionate nuzzle before he was being pushed into the empty locker room. 

“We’ll see who’s asses are going to be kicked tonight darlin,” He smiles, holding the door for his boys to also enter the room before he himself enters, pushing the door closed behind him. 

Dean notices the shift in Bray’s mood about halfway through the night, right after he’d returned from somewhere. The brunet grew quiet and the atmosphere around him grew more heavy. His eyes hardened, losing the softness that they held earlier. Twenty minutes before their match, le lead the others out the locker room, leaving Dean to finish getting ready on his own. 

Dean hadn’t asked Bray what the problem was. He was fairly sure he knew. Roadblock was coming up. The match with Brock was drawing closer. The time for Bray to exact his revenge was growing closer. 

By the time their match rolled around, Bray was in a foul mood. Dean noticed it at once as he was walking down the ramp, heading to the ring where the Wyatts already waited. Bray’s eyes were glued to him the whole way, unblinking and damn nearly a full on glare.

Intense. Dean knew they’d have to be careful. With Bray in this mood, his boys wouldn’t be called back. 

Luckily the wrestling gods or perhaps sheer dumb luck had been on Dean’s team's side. Dean was able to get the pin on Erick just before Bray could slide back in the ring to break it up. They froze for a split second there, Bray halfway in the ring while Dean perched over Erick’s body, eyes locked. Dean backed away, grinning at Bray, as Jimmy, Jey, and Dolph all surround him. He’s lifted by Jimmy and Jey as they celebrate their win. 

Dean barely had time to step into the locker room before Bray grabbed him, shoving him up against the nearest wall. They were by themselves. Luke, Erick, and Braun were gone. 

The kiss that followed was harsh, demanding. Dean returned it, just as good as he was getting it. In times like this, with Bray in this mood, there was no gentleness, no teasing, usually no waiting as Bray would just fuck him right in the locker room. Tonight though Bray pulled away instead. He left Dean standing there, blinking in surprise, and walked over to grab their packed bags. 

The bag is pushed into Dean’s arms and he’s pushed out the room. Dean’s wrist was grabbed and the brunet lead them briskly to the exit. The truck was still where they’d parked it earlier in the day. Luke, Erick, and Braun still had not shown up and Dean is certain Bray sent them away early. 

The ride back to the hotel was silence. Tension filled the cab and Dean couldn’t figure out why. Bray hadn’t said a word. He wasn’t even singing and being insufferable like normal. That’s when Dean noticed that the radio in the truck wasn’t even on. That was very unusual, even if Bray didn’t sing along to it, the radio had always been on. Something was very wrong and Dean’s sure it didn’t have anything to do with Roadblock. 

Dean watched Bray the entire time but the brunet never looked his way. An unsettled feeling started to settle in the pit of Dean’s stomach. The closer they got to the hotel, the more twitchy Dean became. 

They make it to the hotel room before the silence that’s settled between them gets to Dean. He’s become very antsy and jittery, can’t take it anymore. 

“Bray.”

His voice quivers, fucking shakes because of his nerves and it draw the brunet’s attention, which had been focused on the opposite wall, to him immediately. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“A misfortune,” Is the answer that Dean gets before Bray is shifting toward him, capturing his lips in a kiss. He has more questions, wants a damn clear answer from Bray, but he doesn’t get the chance to ask because Bray is pushing him down on the bed and unbuttoning his jeans. 

As he’s drifting off, thoroughly exhausted and sated, all wrapped up in Bray’s arms, Dean makes a note to pester Bray when he wakes up and get the other to tell him what was wrong. 

Hours later when Dean roused from a peaceful sleep, he finds himself alone on the hotel bed, the spot that had been occupied by Bray was cold. Bray was gone. Muttering a curse, Dean reaches for his phone that he left sitting on the dresser beside the bed but his hand brushes over a piece of paper instead. Sitting beside the paper was the keys to the truck as well as Dean’s phone. 

Dean grabs the paper and unfolds it. The words that are scribbled on the paper are written in Bray’s elaborate handwriting. It read: 

_Be seein ya darlin’. I have my war to prepare for as you have yours. Good luck in your match, perhaps this time you’ll be able to grasp the gold. I left the truck for you, use it. We’ll pick it up sometime later._

_Bray_

_P.S. Stay away from Lesnar. I will know if you don’t._  
\-- 

Saturday. March 12, 2016.

Roadblock.

Today is the day that Brock has been waiting for. All week he’s been thinking about nothing but this match. 

Himself vs Bray Wyatt.

Finally, this was his chance to get his hands on that bearded bastard. 

Ever since he and Dean had been caught, Brock hadn’t heard from the dirty blond. Every call had went straight to voicemail and every text had gone unanswered. Brock had called in some favors, gotten someone to keep a look out for Dean on both Raw and Smackdown. He’d heard back that Dean wasn’t anywhere without the Wyatts close by. 

He keeps telling himself that it shouldn’t even be something that he should be concerning himself with. It shouldn’t be something he should even care about. Paul kept telling him to forget about Ambrose, focus on his upcoming matches. Brock knew that he probably should. He knew that even if he got Bray out the way momentarily, the man would probably resurface somewhere down the road. And Roman would be a problem too if he ever found out about the going ons between himself and Dean - if they man didn’t know already. But even in knowing what he should be doing, Brock still didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to let go just yet. 

So Brock had prepared, trained everyday until his muscles screamed for reprieve and even then he’d pushed more. He was more than ready for the battle as he stood in the middle of the ring, awaiting the arrival of Bray Wyatt. 

The music hit and Bray as well as one of his followers - Luke Harper - made there way out to the ring. It figured that the man had talked a big game the other week about how beasts bowed to him and yet he still felt inclined - Brock would go as far as to say it was more of fear that he felt - to bring at least one of his so-called followers with him for back-up. Honestly Brock had expected it. 

However, what he wasn’t expecting was that it would be Luke Harper, not Bray Wyatt, that would be climbing in the ring to face him instead. He frowned, disappointment and anger mixing together. A quick glance at Paul Heyman wielded him no answers as his advocate looked as equally confused as he felt. He had no other time to ponder about the switch in his opponent as the referee rung the bell and his attention was forced in on Harper. 

If Bray wanted to send one of his followers to slaughter then Brock wasn’t about to complain about it. It would be just fine by him.


End file.
